


What Happens in Greenwich

by clio_jlh



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Humor, M/M, Remarriage, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/pseuds/clio_jlh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk is about to get married to the man of his dreams, and is not entirely pleased when his ex-husband shows up, a day before the wedding, with two reporters in tow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Greenwich

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Reel Love rom com challenge at jim_and_bones. I posted a small piece of it a few weeks back, but here it is in its entirety; special thanks to everyone who commented at that time for their encouragement! Thank you to weepingnaiad for urging me to continue (several times), and to she and pinkfinity for reading it over and helping me out once it was completed.  
> Based on _The Philadelphia Story_ (dir. George Cukor, MGM, 1940).

Bones—and why he couldn't stop calling himself that, even in his own head, after everything that happened, he didn't know—kept his eyes on the road and Death Cab _off_ the car stereo, trying not to let the scenery make him too nostalgic. Jazz went better with a drive into Connecticut on the Merritt, anyway.

Then he saw that big old oak as he turned off the parkway and realized it was a lost cause, even if he wasn't alone in the car.

"James Tiberius Kirk," Spock was saying, reading off the copious amounts of research he'd put into his tablet computer. "Born 4 January 1980. Named after his two grandfathers. Descendant of a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Father George died shortly after James was born. Mother, Winona, raised him and an older brother—George Jr., known as Sam—with the help of her parents. Attended Choate Rosemary Hall and Brown University, where he was the captain of the rowing team—"

"Crew," Bones corrected, absent-mindedly. "We call it crew."

"Crew," Spock said, making a correction in his notes. "Graduated summa cum laude with a concentration in … actually it doesn't say here—"

"Don't have to major in anything at Brown," Bones said. "That's why he chose it."

"I see," Spock said, the slightest hint of disapproval in his voice, and Bones had to smile at that. The man had shown scarcely any emotion since they'd met in New York a few days earlier, and Bones couldn't wait for Jim to crack this fella open like an oyster. It was Jim's superpower.

Among other things.

Spock continued, "Spent the next year traveling the world, with you apparently."

"Took a gap year before starting med school."

"Upon his return, Mr. Kirk secured a modeling contract, began acting in independent films and on the stage, and in between worked on an English PhD at Yale. Quite the polymath."

"Most folks call him a renaissance man," Bones said. "Only, he doesn't paint."

Spock slid to another document on his tablet. "Leonard Horatio McCoy, born 20 October 1979. Attended Hotchkiss, Columbia and then Johns Hopkins, where you earned an MD/PhD, followed by a residency at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston, after which you returned home."

"My father was dying," Bones said. "Didn't know it quite then, just meant to take a little break, but he kept getting sicker." Bones cleared his throat. "Break ended up being three years."

"During which you and Mr. Kirk married."

Bones shrugged. "We always knew we were going to, ever since we were kids," he said. "It was like it was fated or something. Thought it'd make Dad happy to see me settled down before he went. Anyway we did up something small, just the people we loved, and had a little honeymoon in Manhattan."

"I remember that," said the woman in the back seat—Nyota Uhura, and Leonard had wondered at Spock's manners, riding shotgun. Not that Leonard was looking to get cozy with the lovely lady, but still. "You stayed at the Gansevoort, and you broke my camera."

Bones smiled up into the rear-view. "Oh was that you, pretending to be a maid to get to our room?" he asked. "I know you had a job to do, but I was under the impression that my honeymoon was my own damn business."

"Not when you marry the It Boy of the moment without making a deal to have a reality show cover the wedding or at least selling the pictures to _Spy_ ," she replied.

"Next time I marry an It Boy I'll know better," Bones said.

"Garrison Mitchell, known as Gary," Spock said, picking up as though Nyota hadn't spoken. "Public high school in Bridgeport, basketball scholarship to University of Connecticut, where he led the team to a national championship. Majored in political science, worked on Capitol Hill for two years, then attended Quinnipiac Law School before working in the state Assembly in Hartford. Being courted to run as a Democrat for Congress after the current representative retires."

"Up and coming man of the people," Nyota said.

"And how," Bones replied.

"Met Mr. Kirk at a Human Rights Campaign fundraiser in Manhattan about nine months ago. Whirlwind romance, from all accounts." Spock looked at Bones expectantly.

"You got me," he said. "Never met the fella. Anyway here we are."

He'd been driving down the back way since he got off the Merritt, because the approach to the Kirk home was duly impressive, all ridiculous gates and long driveway. He leaned out of the convertible and buzzed.

"Aye?" came a familiar voice through the speaker.

"Scotty?" Bones asked. "What the hell are you doing running the door?"

"With all these reporters about, cannot trust anyone else," he said. "And by the by, the groom's not going to be putting out the welcome mat for ya."

"But you will, won't you?"

"Are you here to put a stop to all this nonsense?" Scotty asked.

"Now, if I were, would I tell you?"

"I dunno," Scotty said. "I might help ya."

"That bad, eh?" Bones said. "Well, can't do much from out here."

There was a sigh, then the gates began to open. "Just do me a favor and don't tell him it was me?"

Bones laughed. "You have my word on it."

The driveway held no ghosts of the past for Bones; he'd always come in the side entrance. So there was no rush of emotion that needed to be quickly covered over, and thank goodness for that; he wasn't sure how much scrutiny he could bear. But at least it was for a very good cause.

Once inside the house, he settled Spock and Nyota in one of the front sitting rooms and warned them to stay put. Then headed in to look for Jim, all the while making a bet with himself on how long it would take for Jim to see through Khan's cover story.

Over/under was probably about five minutes.

* * *

"Is that a fertility god?" Gaila asked.

Jim cocked his head, staring at the statue. "They do know I'm marrying a man, right, mom?" he asked.

Winona glanced at the card. "With your Aunt Polly it could just be denial," she said.

"I wish she'd just find a charity she likes and give the money to them," Jim said. "A houseful of presents is so 1939."

"I don't know," said an all-too-familiar voice behind him. "You've always liked older things."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I knew things were going too smoothly," he said, and turned around to see yes, there was his ex-husband, Bones. Well, he should call him Leonard now. "What are you doing here, Bones?"

"What do you think, Jim?" he asked, grinning. And if anything was suspicious, it was a smiling Bones. "Hello, Winona!"

"Oh, Leo, you haven't come to make trouble, have you?" she asked, but she accepted his hug, marking her a traitor in Jim's book.

"Of course not," he said. "You'll have no trouble from me. I even came with a couple of presents from Sam."

"What kind of presents?" Jim asked.

"A Mr. Spock and a Ms. Uhura, great friends of Sam's, and he requests that you give them his room," Bones replied.

"Oh, now, I know he likes to have his little surprises," Winona said, "but that's a bit strange even from him."

Jim crossed his arms. "I know Sam can't make it to the wedding—"

"More like boycotting as a means of protest," Gaila muttered.

Jim glared at her, then continued, "But he knows we're going to have a house full. Why can't they stay at your place?" Jim's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to? Are you drunk?"

" _Jim_ ," Winona said.

Jim sighed. "Sorry."

Winona held her hand out. "Come on Gaila, let's meet these friends of Sam's and let them have it out."

"Everything good happens when I'm out of the room," Gaila said.

"You'll stay for lunch, won't you, Leo?" Winona asked.

"Love to," Bones replied. "Thank you so much."

"Don't burn the house down, boys," Winona said as they left the room.

"So, if I called Sam what kind of story would he feed me?" Jim asked.

"The same one I'm feeding you right now," Bones said.

"And you'd both be lying," Jim said, shaking his head. "Look, I know he helped you get into rehab that second time, and I know that you've been staying with him, and he's 'Team Bones' and all that nonsense, but seriously, sabotaging my wedding is a bit much even for the two of you."

Bones sighed. "I'm not here for that. I'm sure you're familiar with _Spy_ Magazine?"

"Not as familiar as you are," Jim said. "Didn't you do some work with them, while you were 'drying out' in Malibu?" he asked, his fingers marking the scare quotes.

"I did, and don't be snide," he replied mildly. "It's good for your recovery to have a job, and it was a little early to go back to medicine, so I did some copy editing."

"And would I be right in guessing that these lovely friends of Sam's are reporters?"

"A reporter and a photographer, actually," Bones replied.

"And you brought them into _my house_? And Sam knows this? I knew you two would go a long way to prove you were right—"

"Wait, wait," Bones said. "It isn't that." He reached into his inside pocket. "It's this," he said, handing Jim a flash drive.

"And this is?"

"A big exposé on your father," Bones replied. "You know, all about what a philanderer he was."

"My father? But—"

"Yep, pretty much all lies."

"Well, we'll sue!" Jim said, starting to pace. "Gary will bury them."

"I don't think so," Bones replied.

"Why not? Gary's a great lawyer—"

"Because he's dead, Jim," Bones said. "You can't libel the dead."

Jim deflated. "Dammit."

"My sentiments exactly," Bones said. "So, make friends with these nice people, let Ms. Uhura take a few snaps, and Khan won't run the story on your father."

"Simple as that?" Jim asked.

"Simple as that," Bones said.

Jim stared at the drive in his hand. "Well when you put it that way, what choice do I have?" he said. "Thanks, Bones, for making this deal. You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "You should call your brother and thank him. He helped me come up with it."

"I will," Jim said, nodding. "You look good. Gained some of that muscle back."

"Yeah, well, healthy life," Bones said. "Thanks."

Jim nodded. "Well, we should probably join the others."

"Yeah, yeah, let's do that. And, probably shouldn't tell Winona."

"No," Jim agreed. "Nor Chris, either. No telling what they would do."

They walked into the front room, where Gaila and Winona were talking with a man and a very familiar-looking woman.

"Hi, I'm Jim Kirk," he said. "And I know why you're here, so we can all stop pretending."

"Why?" Gaila asked.

" _Spy_ magazine, exclusive on the wedding, et cetera, et cetera." He saw his mother start to say something and held up his hand. "Don't ask, I have my reasons, and anyway it's my wedding, right?"

Winona smiled, though Jim could see she didn't quite feel it. "Of course it is, Jim," she said.

Jim extended his hand to the man. "And you are?"

"Spock," he said. "I'm a writer. This is Ms. Uhura; she's a photographer."

Jim turned to her. "I have the feeling—"

"Gansevoort hotel," she said. "You flashed me, and then he broke my camera."

"Oh, right!" Jim said. "God, I'd forgotten all about that. Bones was _so mad_."

"I liked to think the whole marriage business gave me exclusive rights to the sight of your penis," Bones said.

"Well, that contract has expired," Jim replied.

"Yes," Bones said, looking vaguely over Jim's shoulder and down the hallway. "In fact here comes love's young dream now."

Jim turned, confused, to see Gary walking toward them in his purposeful way, and he had to smile. Gary was always _going places_ , literally, as well as figuratively, always in transit from one obligation to another. He was needed, and he needed Jim to help, and Jim liked that.

Also, he wasn't hard on the eyes.

"Hello there," Jim said, smiling, and honestly a little relieved to have a conversation in which he didn't need to be 100% on his game. "Just the man I _wanted_ to see."

"I like the sound of that," Gary said, giving him a hug and the usual kiss on the ear, because that was their thing, something that wasn't too sexy for any situation they might find themselves in, but was still affectionate. Hearing a click, they broke apart to see Ms. Uhura holding a camera.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, smiling. "I'm an awful nuisance with it."

"Of course not," Gary said. "I hope you take tons of them." He turned to Jim. "Are you going to introduce me to your friends?"

"Not friends exactly," Jim said. "Mr. Spock and Ms. Uhura are from _Spy_ Magazine, here to cover the wedding."

"Well, isn't that something!" he said, moving away from Jim to shake their hands in his enthusiastic, seeking-approval sort of way. "Quite flattering, to think this little party is all that important to folks that a national magazine would cover it."

"Ain't it just," Bones said.

Jim rolled his eyes. "And that would be Leonard McCoy, who's graciously deigning to crash the wedding in my brother's stead."

"Oh," Gary said, and threw his shoulders back. "Well, no need for this to be awkward."

Bones shook his hand. "Why would it be?" he asked. "We all just want Jim to be happy, don't we?"

Jim had to hand it to Gary—while something flashed behind his eyes, his smile didn't falter for a second. "That goes without saying, I'd hope," Gary said.

Bones gave his widest, most insincere smile, the one Jim had always called his "parlor grin." "Then you and me, we're on the same side."

Another click from Ms. Uhura, and Jim couldn't blame her, but not until seeing them framed by her camera did Jim realize that while Bones had dozens of different smiles for various occasions—odd, for someone who scowled so frequently—Gary had only one smile. The smile he had for campaign staffers and constituents and reporters was the same one he gave to Jim when they were alone. Probably, Jim thought loyally, that was because Gary didn't have anything to hide.

"Jim, dear?" his mother was saying.

"Oh, sorry," Jim said. "Just thinking."

"I could smell the smoke," Gaila said, an eyebrow raised, and Jim really wanted to say, "not _now_." Honestly, if a fella couldn't catch a break while introducing his fiancé to his ex-husband in front of a couple of reporters, when could he?

"While you're thinking, could you run along to the kitchen and tell Pavel we'll be nine for lunch?"

"We'll both go," Gary said, and steered Jim out into the hall.

"Hey, sorry about that," Jim said, now that they were alone. "Would have given you a heads up but I didn't know about it myself until this afternoon."

"Well, I know you don't think much of reporters," Gary said, "but if I'm going to make this run we're going to need to get very cozy with them. Especially the two of us together. Make people see that our marriage is as valid as anyone else's. It's historic, what we're doing, Jim. So I'm touched that you invited these people to the wedding."

Jim blinked; he'd meant Bones, not the reporters. But of course Gary wasn't worried about Bones, and why should he be? "Then I'm glad," Jim said, and they went down to the kitchen.

* * *

Scotty joined them for lunch, of course, as did Chris Pike, whom Leonard hadn't seen at all since he'd gone to California, and while he hoped for a welcome, he wasn't prepared for a long, warm embrace.

"Good to have you back, son," he said, low in Bones's ear.

"Thanks," Bones replied. "Good to be back. California isn't really my speed."

"But Sam seems happy out there?" Chris asked as they sat down. "We've visited, but you were out there longer."

"He really does. Very much in his element."

"Well, you didn't miss anything _here_ ," Gaila said.

"Thanks to you, cousin," Bones replied. "Since you sent me all those email updates."

Spock cocked his head. "I thought that Gaila was your cousin, Jim?"

"I'm both their cousins," she replied. "My mother was a McCoy and my father is Aunt Winona's brother."

"How intriguing," Spock said. "I had noticed that this community seems rather insular."

"I dunno," Scotty said. "I've found it damn welcoming. I came here to take care of the place for Winona and now I'm marrying her niece and designing golf courses."

"You're a prince among men, Scotty," Bones said. "You'd be welcome anyplace."

"Whereas I got arrested for solicitation on the Bowery two years ago," Gaila said.

Bones rolled his eyes because really, _not this story again_. He looked up the table and caught Jim's eye and he shrugged, smirking a little. Gary frowned at that, and Bones wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing until the fellow opened his mouth.

"I don't believe I've heard this story," Gary said.

" _Reporters,_ " Jim muttered.

"Oh Jim, it was all over the _Post_ already," Gaila said, giggling. "I'd left a club and I just couldn't get a cab—they were all going off-duty or something, I don't know—so this car slowed down and it was this guy I'd seen in the club so I asked if he was willing to give me a lift, only it was a cop, and I don't know what I'd done to give him the impression that I was a prostitute but he said how much and I thought he was joking so I laughed and said I usually got $50 to go to the powder room, and he arrested me!"

Jim said, "Clearly he hadn't seen Breakfast at Tiffany's."

Gary looked stern. "That's harassment, Gaila," he said. "I hope you did something about it."

She waved her hand. "Oh, as soon as he brought me to his partner I was let go. He recognized me."

"As a member of an upstanding family?" Spock asked.

"No," Bones said, "as a scenester, like Jim was. As a girl who frequents the clubs downtown. Any vice cop worth the job knows who those girls are and at least wouldn't arrest one of them for _prostitution_ because she made an Audrey Hepburn joke."

"I see," Spock said.

"And besides, you certainly don't have to be upper class to marry the boy next door," Bones went on. "It's an American tradition."

"Traditions were made to be broken," Jim said, a little sneer in his voice, and Bones smiled at him in the most insincere manner possible. Of course Jim couldn't resist returning that smile, and of course there was a click that told them Uhura had captured the moment on film.

Or a memory stick. Whatever.

Winona cleared her throat. "So what do you do, Ms. Uhura, when you're not …"

"Dressing up as a maid to sneak into hotel rooms?" she asked, though her smile showed that she was in on the joke, at least. "Actually I take pictures, just of the sort of people that Khan would never put in his magazine."

"What sort of people?" Chris asked.

"Oh, people in my neighborhood," she said. "I still live in Washington Heights, where I grew up. Sometimes I take pictures of the buildings, but mostly, people."

"She's quite good," Spock said. "She's had two one-woman shows at galleries in West Chelsea."

Ms. Uhura smiled. "And Spock has had two short stories published in the New Yorker, and several gathered into a book."

"Oh how lovely," Winona said. "I'll have to look up all of your work. Now are you two involved?"

Bones watched the two reporters hem and haw and stumble over their words and he was reminded of the day he and Jim got back from their trip to Europe. Sam was at the airport to pick them up and he took one look at the two of them and said, "Jesus, you two just fucked your way across a continent, didn't you?" The thing was, they _had_ , but they hadn't quite figured out what kind of relationship they were going to build when they got back to the states. Never did figure that out entirely, as it happened.

Bones heard his name being called, from someplace far away, and looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"Gaila was asking you to her party tonight," Jim said, his head cocked.

Bones blushed; it was just the sort of thing he did when he was still drinking, tune people out, and he didn't exactly blame Jim for wondering, nor was he surprised that only Jim's voice had broken through the memory. "Oh thanks, Gaila, but being sober for a year is just long enough to know that it's probably too early to be going to the kinds of parties you throw," he said. "Don't worry about me; Hikaru's coming over for a little cookout at my place tonight. But I'd love to go out to dinner, later this week maybe?"

"Well, that's the only circumstance I'll take no for an answer," she said, smiling. "I'm glad you're making that choice, Leo."

Bones smiled. "Me too." He glanced down the table, and Jim was looking back, this time with a little smile. Bones let out a breath and thought, _maybe_.

* * *

Apparently Mr. Spock only had one name. Or at least, he wrote under one name.

The warm weather was making the house a little stuffy, and Jim was getting that itchy feeling, like his clothes were too tight, the feeling that usually led him to making bad decisions and quitting things. But he wasn't going to quit this time. He grabbed his iPad and headed out for the oak grove, where there were benches just perfect for reading, and also hiding for a while so he could get back to himself.

The New Yorker short stories weren't hard to find at all, and Jim even remembered reading one of them, something about kings and Spain and sand, and had thought it was a bit much at the time. He remembered wanting to laugh over it with Bones, but Bones was in California and they were divorcing so that wasn't all that possible.

Gary was too busy reading position papers to read short stories in the New Yorker that Jim didn't even like. Gary was Going Places and taking Jim along with him.

Ms. Uhura—Ms. Nyota Uhura, as it turned out—was harder to find, but only because galleries were harder to search than magazines and pictures more closely held than stories. They were gorgeous shots, something beautiful but offbeat about their composition, and Jim wondered what the _Spy_ pictures would look like if they didn't need to be approved by that blackmailing idiot Khan. Jim made a note to check out the gallery as soon as he and Gary got back from their honeymoon trip; there were a few things that could be good for their little house.

That was Jim's contribution, the house. Gary was staying in the guest cottage right now but there was a lodge, still within the Second District that they wanted Gary to run from, where they could set up a perfectly nice home. It had spaces for entertaining and some guest bedrooms, perfect for wining and dining donors and the like. Jim looked forward to the whole set up, in a Laura Petrie kind of way.

Jim downloaded Spock's book onto his iPad from the library, unsurprised that it was out of print. Not much market for literary short story collections of first-time authors, even if they did have their MFA from Iowa. The other stories were a good bit sturdier than that first one, and Spock had a real way with words and an almost unnerving insight into what made people tick. (Must be those reporter skills.) And Bones had chided him about it at lunch, but Spock did seem to have a little chip on his shoulder about class. Jim was a little more sympathetic; he'd been around all those spoiled actors and rich girls that Spock had been covering for the gossip pages a lot more often than Bones, who (ironically) never much liked going out. But then Bones wasn't a fun drunk; he was a quiet, sullen drunk. He'd never hit Jim, but it was a near thing, that horrible year after David McCoy died and everything went to hell in a handbasket.

Well, if kicking Bones out was the shock he needed to go to rehab the first time, and divorcing him what put him in the second time, it was worth it if he was sober now. He did look good. He'd gotten some of the muscle back and he had a bit of a tan. Probably Sam's doing, that traitor of a brother of his. Honestly.

"The It Boy reads?" said a voice from above.

Jim looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun, and saw Spock looking down on him. "Of course," he replied. "My mother taught me and everything." He waved an arm at the seat next to him and Spock took it, glancing at his iPad screen as he sat down.

"That looks … familiar," he said, and was that a faint blush on those pale cheeks?

Jim grinned. "Should, it's yours," he said. "And I remembered the one about Spain from the New Yorker. Not even the strongest of them, either. You've got a real way with words, Spock. Spare, like Hemingway, but not nearly as affected or obsessed with macho bullshit."

Spock inclined his head. "Thank you."

"So why are you writing for a rag like _Spy_?" he asked.

"It pays," he replied with a shrug. "Pays well enough that I have the time to start a novel."

"And how do you maintain your sanity?"

"I ensure that I am always assigned with Ms. Uhura," he replied. "She's in a similar situation."

"So I see," Jim said. "Her photographs are quite striking. I'll have to buy some for the new house."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Spock replied. "Though I'm not sure she thinks of them as home decor."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Not sure if you noticed, being in the house and all," he said, "but I'm fairly used to living with art. Mom's on the board of MoMA, and I've been a patron at the New Museum for a few years now."

"And you have enough money to kindly request that artists make a piece that fits nicely above your couch and possibly matches the decor," Spock replied.

"That's what you think of us?" Jim asked.

"I've seen it happen often enough," Spock said. "Even bragged of."

Jim sat up, squaring his shoulders. "Well, that is not done here."

It was Spock's turn to raise his eyebrows. "I apologize. I did not mean to offend."

Jim nodded. "And I didn't mean to imply that Ms. Uhura's photographs would be merely decor. Speaking of which, where is your Ms. Uhura?" he asked, looking to lighten the mood. After all, Spock was writing about Gary and him, so he shouldn't be arguing with the guy.

"I'm not sure, actually," Spock said. He looked around the little arbor where Jim had been reading. "Must be nice to live so near this park," he said.

"Oh this is part of our place," Jim replied. "Maybe she's down by the pool? It would be nice to have a little swim, actually."

"Oh, I didn't bring—"

"There's always a bunch of extra suits down there," Jim said, waving his hand as he stood. "C'mon, it'll be fun."

Spock hesitated, and Jim could almost hear him thinking. Then he stood. "Very well," he said. "It is quite warm. A swim would be refreshing."

"That's the ticket," Jim said, and led the way to the swimming pool.

But when they got there, there was Bones, sitting on the diving board. "There you two are," he said. "Canoodling in the oak grove, were you?"

"No," Jim replied, scowling, though he wasn't sure why he felt a rush of embarrassment. They absolutely had not been making out—their conversation hadn't even been particularly friendly. Yet, he felt caught, and was weirdly glad it was Bones doing the catching and not Gary. Bones, clearly, would just be amused. Gary, not so much.

"Your Ms. Uhura was looking for you, Spock," Bones said.

"She's not my Ms. Uhura, and I was looking for her as well," he replied.

"Well, you've missed her. I think she wanted to use you as an excuse for Gaila, who predictably has carted her off for the afternoon."

"She was kind of flirty at lunch," Jim said.

Spock's brow furrowed. "I was under the impression that Gaila was involved with Mr. Scott?"

"They're open," Bones said, waving his hand. "And she may have just taken her off for some sort of day of beauty makeover thing. You can never tell with Gaila."

"Ms. Uhura needs no such assistance," Spock said.

Bones raised his eyebrows, and looked at Jim, and they shared an amused look. "Well that's downright loyal of you, Spock."

"I am merely stating a fact," he replied.

"So why are you hanging around?" Jim asked. "Shouldn't you be opening up your house or something?"

Bones shrugged. "Haven't had a chance to talk to you about Gary," he said. "Haven't heard you wax on, rhapsodic, as you usually do."

"That's because he's not just some temporary phase," Jim said. "He's a keeper, unlike some people."

"Is he now?" Bones said. "Because I get the whole rebound business, believe me, but you have to admit this is a pretty violent swing."

"Oh, so you think this is all about you?" Jim asked.

Spock started to back away. "I should go," he said.

"No, you stay," Jim said, grabbing his shoulder. "Put it all down for _Spy_ magazine, how the It Boy finally grew up and freed himself from his adolescent crush."

"That's what you think it was?" Bones asked.

"C'mon, Bones," Jim said. "You have to admit, we were pretty young."

"By the time we got married we were in our late twenties," Bones said. "I was a physician."

"You were a drunk."

"That too," Bones admitted, "and thanks for your understanding."

"Understanding?" Jim asked. "You weren't even _there_. And you were mean to people, Bones. You were mean to _Mom_."

"I know," Bones said, his head down. "I'm sorry. I'm not proud of the things I did."

For once, Bones actually seemed sorry, but Jim had been waiting too long to say what he needed to say, so he kept on. "You lost your direction. It's like your father died and you forgot who you were, who any of us were."

Bones nodded. "And who you were," he said. "Which is more to the point, isn't it? Gary's never going to forget who you are. He needs James Tiberius Kirk too much."

"What?" Jim said. "Who I am? I thought that sort of thing didn't matter to you, that whole stupid class thing. Are you actually saying that you don't want me to marry Gary because he's—"

"That's not what I mean and you know it," Bones said. "If you were marrying Hikaru, I'd host the wedding myself, shake hands and call it a job well done. Hell, if you were marrying Scotty I might even help you avoid being killed by Gaila."

Spock had tried to fade back again, but now cocked his head. "Why would Gaila attempt to kill Mr. Kirk for a liaison with Mr. Scott, if they are open?"

"I said marriage, Spock," Bones replied. "They're not _that_ open."

"And who is this Hikaru?"

"Hikaru Sulu went to grammar school with us," Jim said. "He lives in town. His dad owned the flower shop and now he's taken it over and is making it into a general party-planning business with his partner, Pavel, who's a caterer."

"I thought Mr. Chekov was your chef?" Spock asked.

"No, no, we don't have a staff like that," Jim said. "That went out long ago. Pavel's just here this weekend to feed guests so my mother doesn't go nuts. He and Hikaru are doing the wedding, actually. He's mostly here doing prep for that so he won't have to move as much food tomorrow."

"I see," Spock said. "Well, speaking of that, I really must go find Ms. Uhura." He walked away quickly, before Jim could call him back again.

"Well, that will be a juicy tidbit for his story," Jim said. "Jealous ex-husband objects to marriage. Maybe people will make Team Bones and Team Gary t-shirts."

"Don't flatter yourself, kid," he said.

"Don't call me kid, old man," Jim replied.

"Stop acting like one, then," Bones said.

"What are you even—did you miss the part where I'm getting married and settling down with a man who's on the path to being president?" he asked.

"A man who will allow you to go right on being just as childishly self-indulgent as you always have been," Bones replied. "And who probably won't call you on any of it but just find it endearing or some bullshit."

"Excuse me," Jim said. "Just because you enjoyed doing it so much doesn't mean it must be done that often."

Bones hummed, nodding. "Yes, left to your own devices look at what you come up with. Becoming some kind of hipster version of a political stepford wife."

"Gary is going to change the country, Bones."

"You know, when we watched West Wing, the idea was that I would be the doctor-spouse and you would be the politician-academic," Bones said.

"Yeah, well, things change," Jim replied. "Not sure academia is really for me."

Bones blinked at him. "All right."

"All right?" Jim asked. "No 'Hey Jimmy why don't you finish what you've started'? Didn't you just say that more people need to be calling me out on things?"

"Things that matter," Bones replied. ""I don't care that you haven't found your path yet. I care that you stopped looking. Or worse, found it in someone else."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "You mean, someone other than _you_."

Bones stood up and put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "No, kid," he said. "I mean, someone other than _you_."

Jim turned and Bones had his mouth set in that firm line when he was saying something that he meant to be saying. But his eyes were sad, and despite being back in shape he seemed smaller somehow. Jim wondered if the past year had been as lonely for Bones as it had been for Jim, wondered if maybe he should have been patient with Bones in a way he never was with himself.

Then from behind him Jim heard Gary say, "Should I object to this twosome?"

Bones broke eye contact—broke the moment, broke everything—and rolled his eyes. "That would be most objectionable," he said.

Gary smiled, not showing a bit of annoyance, and Jim felt suddenly protective of him. He was good on his feet—a damn good interview and debater—but the kind of wordplay Bones was fond of was a little beyond him. Jim stepped back and took Gary's hand, and saw Bones's eyes glance down.

As always, though, he recovered quickly. "But have fun at your party tonight. A word of advice, Gary, from one who knows?"

"Glad to have it," Gary said.

Bones nodded. "Don't let Gaila fix you any drinks." He gave a little salute, then walked off down the well-trodden shortcut to his house.

"You okay?" Gary asked, squeezing Jim's hand.

Jim turned to him. "Yeah. He can't get to me, especially with you around." He leaned in and gave Gary a kiss. "Have a swim?"

"No time," he said. "The party starts in an hour."

"No one gets to parties on time," Jim said, turning and putting his hands on Gary's hips.

"Your habit of being fashionably late won't fly in politics," Gary replied, but he still wrapped his arms around Jim's waist.

Gary smelled awfully good to Jim so he nuzzled into his neck. "Mom says Bill was always late."

"Clinton is my idol, and the reason I got into politics," Gary said, "but I don't intend to follow his example in everything."

"I would hope not," Jim said, kissing him behind his ear, just there where the hair started. "Sleeping with interns is so passé."

Gary chuckled, but pulled back so he could look Jim in the eye. "Please?"

"Okay," Jim replied. "I'll go get dressed." They kissed again, and Jim turned to go back into the house.

But something still worried him. "Hey Gary?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't think I'm becoming some kind of political Stepford wife, do you?"

"Just because I'm asking you to go to a party on time?" Gary asked, cocking his head.

"No," Jim said, "I guess, I mean, most of the things I'm working on these days relate to you."

"Not to me," Gary said, shaking his head and stepping closer. "To us, to what we'd symbolize, not just to this town or this state but the whole country. This is a partnership. When we met, not to put too fine a point on it, but you didn't seem to know where you were going."

"No, I didn't," Jim admitted.

"All I said was you can come with me." Gary smiled then. "And miracle of miracles, you said yes, and now—just imagine, Jim! You and me and the children we'll have, standing there on inauguration day? Think of what that will mean to some little girl in some little town who thinks she has a crush on one of her friends. With all of your energy and my know-how and a lot of hard work, nothing can stop us. And anyway, the do-nothing political spouse is as passé as sleeping with interns."

"So if I pursue a few things of my own …"

"It can only make us stronger," Gary said. "We'll just talk about it."

"Talk about it?" he asked.

"Come on, Jim, you know how it is," Gary said. "I know you're used to making the papers but this is a very different kind of scrutiny."

"I suppose," Jim replied. "But you don't mind about Bones?"

"What about him?"

"Well, you know, not such a shining beacon of same-sex marriage when I'm already divorced."

"Part of the right to marry is the right to end an early, youthful, idealistic marriage that didn't have what it took to go the distance," Gary said. "I think many people would relate. But that's your last divorce, hear me?"

Jim smiled. "Yeah, I hear you."

"Good," Gary said, and kissed him on the forehead. "You're really okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Go get dressed. I'll see you in a bit."

Jim walked through the garden back to the house, where Winona and Chris, already dressed, were cuddled together on the old porch swing having a cocktail. Chris Pike had started coming around their place a little while after his wife Eve died, when Jim was at Brown and Sam at grad school. Chris had always been a sort of father figure for the two of them, and was certainly easier to deal with than the other men Winona had dallied with. Mostly, though, they were just glad Winona wasn't alone so much anymore.

"Jim, you aren't going to be late, are you?" Winona asked.

"No," Jim said. "I'll be right on time from now on."

"You all right, son?" Chris asked.

"Why, because I said I'd be on time?"

"No," he replied. "You just look like a kicked puppy, is all."

Jim raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Maybe so. Got one of Bones's lectures, you know. Said I wasn't following my dreams or something. Like helping Gary isn't my dream, too."

Chris and Winona shared one of those significant looks, then looked down at the table.

"What?" Jim asked. "You—do you _agree_ with him?"

"I wouldn't have put it that way," Chris replied, standing, "but yes."

Winona touched his arm. "Oh, Chris, I don't think—"

"No, Winona," Chris said, putting his hand over hers. "Maybe we haven't said enough."

"Said what, exactly?" Jim asked.

"You know that you're a highly talented and intelligent young man," Chris said. "When faced with tasks that challenge other people, you can sail right through. But when things get a little tough, when you're required to put in real effort, maybe even fail a few times, you're off to the next new thing. You're busy, and you work at plenty of things, but you've never needed to work hard, so you don't." He paused. "I guess what I'm saying, Jim, is … you don't _stick_."

Winona nodded. "The acting, the writing, the academic work."

"The marriage," Jim replied. "That's what you're really saying, isn't it?"

"Addiction is damn hard to live with," Chris said, "and Leonard wasn't making it easy for you. But you might have stuck a little longer after things got tough."

"Things will be tough with Gary, too," Winona said. "And you won't be able to get out of that so easily."

"I thought you liked Gary," Jim said. "Now you're saying he's not the right one?"

"Ask yourself one thing, Jim," Chris said. "Does he challenge you?"

Jim opened his mouth, but Winona shook her head.

"Don't answer now," she said, standing up next to Chris. "Just think on it."

Jim nodded, and sunk down onto one of the benches on the porch as Chris and Winona walked away. "Jeez," he said, after a while. "What's the matter with everyone all of a sudden?"

* * *

One of the more irritating after effects of rehab was that Bones didn't keep particularly regular hours. He'd learned how to exist on limited sleep during his residency, and that helped, but he'd do anything to be able to just lay down and fall asleep. Nowadays, he might manage with the right combination of herbal tea, soothing music and reading material, but it was a tricky thing.

Hikaru had brought Pavel over for dinner, as they were both too tired with wedding preparations to attempt Gaila's party, so Bones finally was able to meet the boy-genius boyfriend he'd heard so much about. Pavel was young—only twenty-three—and had a chemistry degree on top of his schooling at the Culinary Institute of America, and Bones could see why he fit in easily with the local gang. But watching them together was bittersweet. Certainly kept his mind off of what he was missing at Gaila's, but reminded him of what he was missing in his life, too. It seemed odd to be sitting around with Hikaru without Jim; the three of them had been inseparable at one time. When Bones said he'd shake hands and call it good if Jim were marrying Hikaru, he'd meant it.

Now it was two am and sleep was elusive. He couldn't actually hear the ruckus at Gaila's, but it felt like he could, like it was calling him to come there and be where the people were, in the middle of the party. But he knew that back when he'd been drinking he'd never been in the middle of the party anyway; that was Jim's role. And certainly drinking now would only erase everything he'd worked so hard for over the past two years. He was just giving up and heading downstairs to find an old movie or a video game to distract himself with when he heard the door chiming.

He opened the door and was surprised to see Spock leaning against the jamb. "What the hell?"

Spock blinked at him slowly. "Sorry to disturb," he said. "I just wanted to ask you a few … a few _questions_." He blinked, and his eyes looked glassy.

"Are you _drunk_?"

"I may be," Spock replied. "I have never had this much champagne before. It sneaks up on you."

"Come in, then," Bones said, turning away from the door and walking into the front room. "Coffee? Water?"

"No thank you," Spock replied, perching on a low stool. He waited for Bones to sit down on a nearby couch and then said, "If you have a scheme for stopping this wedding, I would like to offer my assistance."

Bones raised his eyebrows; that certainly wasn't what he was expecting Spock to say. "What makes you think that?"

"Nyota believes that you are still in love with Jim," Spock said. "Even more so after I discussed your earlier conversation with him. I must admit, I had not come to the same conclusion, watching you."

"No?"

"No. Your conversation with Jim seemed very unkind, and I had thought it motivated from the anger and spite that can come from divorce. No offense meant."

"None taken," Bones replied, inclining his head. "But Nyota felt otherwise?"

"She reminded me of times when she has tried to help me understand the effects of my own behavior on other people," he replied, "and pointed out the similarities between those discussions and the one you had with Jim earlier today. However, I must point out that I take Nyota's criticism with much more good humor than Jim showed when listening to you."

"Sounds like the lady cares for you."

"I know that to be a fact," Spock said, "so in turn you must care for Jim."

"If I did, wouldn't I be glad to see him happy with Gary?"

Spock's eyes flashed, the most emotion Bones had seen from the man since they met. "You know very well that Jim will find no happiness with _Gary Mitchell_. To paraphrase our Secretary of State, he has better things to do than bake cookies."

Bones had to laugh at that. "So you think he should get a job of his own?"

"No, no," Spock said. "You said that to him this afternoon—Jim told me. No, I mean no such thing. In fact, I resent that you said that to him. I'm frankly amazed that you have known him for so long and yet have no understanding of him whatsoever."

"And you do?" Bones asked.

"As befits a reporter and a fiction writer, I am an excellent observer of human behavior," Spock said.

"But not such an excellent participant in human behavior," Bones added. "Though you certainly seem to have been participating tonight."

"Yes I … if you must know, I left the party a bit early because my attentions toward Jim were unwanted."

"Really? Jim seems to like you well enough."

"By his fiancé," Spock said.

"I see," Bones replied. "So that's how you gained all this 'understanding'? Doesn't Gary understand him?"

"Gary Mitchell, like most politicians, sees little other than what relates immediately to himself," Spock said. "He has no idea what a rare treasure he has. Jim is a true renaissance man, and he can't be treated like other people. He should be—"

"Indulged?" Bones asked.

"No, no, you said that to him earlier. No, he should be encouraged, cherished, prized. His interests are varied but they are far from shallow."

"You sound like a man with a crush," Bones said. "Does Nyota know you swing that way?"

"My interest in a partner does not originate with the physical," Spock said with a sniff. "If you must, you may characterize me as pansexual."

"Yeah you don't seem like the down and dirty type," Bones said. "No wonder you interest Jim. A little deeper than us mere gay boys, I reckon."

"That Gary Mitchell is certainly all surface. I can't imagine that he's picked up a single work of fiction since he passed his literature requirement." Spock looked around the room, noticing for the first time the books on the shelves behind Bones. "Your books look read, however."

"Thank you," Bones said.

"Is that—is that _my_ book?" Spock asked. "Dr. McCoy, you have unexpected depth."

"When I came out of rehab that first time, I read everything I could get my hands on to keep myself from drinking. Didn't work, though."

Spock nodded. "Makes you a better man than our employer," he said. "I doubt he even passed his literature requirement."

"Don't you know your own corporate mythology?" Bones asked. "Khan didn't go to college. He's self-made."

"Fashioned after a craven image, you mean," Spock said.

"Are you saying our esteemed editor is a crook?" Bones asked, amused.

"If even a tenth of the things I know about Khan Noonien Singh were to get out, he'd be ruined," Spock replied. "Unfortunately he'd take me down with him, and Nyota as well."

Bones grabbed Spock's shoulder. "But what if it came from me?"

Spock raised one eyebrow. "Why? What do you have against him? You can't have worked at _Spy_ long enough to truly hate him."

"He's made up some lies about George Kirk," Bones said. "He threatened to publish them if Sam and I didn't get a reporter the inside scoop on the wedding."

"So we're part of his blackmail?" Spock asked, standing up. "I knew there was something dirty behind all of this. I just assumed it was you."

"Well, _thanks_ ," Bones said as he stood. "But seriously, do you have something that could make him back down?"

"Of course. I wasn't intending on delivering a story on this wedding after tonight. I would be happy to assist you in protecting the name of George Kirk."

"For Jim's sake?" Bones asked.

"Because it is the right thing to do," Spock replied.

* * *

They'd been at it for about an hour, Spock spinning the tale of Khan's dalliances with the contestants at a beauty pageant and Bones taking the story down, as it turned out that Bones was a much faster typist. The thing he wasn't sure about was how to get it to Khan and be sure he'd read it before the wedding tomorrow. And then the doorbell rang.

"What is this, Grand Central Station?" Bones asked as he headed to the foyer.

He was unsurprised to find Nyota Uhura on the other side of his door.

"Looking for your lost lamb, Mary?" he asked her.

"Is he still here?" she asked. "He said he was coming to speak to you."

"Yes," Bones replied. "Have you come to collect him?"

"Well, since I was bringing Jim back to the house anyway, I thought I might give him a lift," she said.

Bones peered past her at the convertible in his driveway. "Jim?"

"He and that fiancé of his had an epic battle after Spock left," she said. "Gary took off, and Jim rolled up into a little ball in the front seat of the car."

"Not entirely surprising," Bones said, trying to keep his voice flat and the hope from rising in his chest.

"And what have you two been up to?" she asked.

"Blackmailing your boss, actually," Bones said. "Spock can fill you in. I'll just—"

Nyota smiled at him, knowingly, which he might have objected to if she wasn't able to see right through him. "Go ahead," she said. "Maybe he'll talk to you; he hasn't said a single word to anyone else since the fight." She stepped inside, calling out for Spock.

Bones walked slowly up to the car, where Jim was sitting with his knees braced against the dashboard, his head tipped back so he could stare up at the stars. "Hey there," Bones said softly.

"Come to see the wreckage?" Jim asked.

"Of course not," Bones said. "What the hell?"

"Sorry," he replied, and moved his head, looking down. "Guess I made a mess of things again. Or maybe I'm the mess."

"Not you, Jim," Bones said, crouching so their heads were close together. "You're not a mess at all. You never have been."

"That's not what you said this afternoon," Jim replied.

"I just think well enough of you to think you deserve better, is all."

"Yeah? Better like what?"

"Like everything," Bones replied.

Jim stared at him, something old and familiar in his eyes, and then he glanced up. Bones heard the footsteps behind him, and turned around to see Nyota and Spock.

"Spock says you need someone to hack into _Spy_ email?" Nyota said.

Bones stood up. "We need to send this from someone whose email he'd read right away—something that would alert on his blackberry."

"That'd be the editor. I can do that, easily," she said.

"She's amazing," Spock said.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Bones asked, cocking his head.

"Spock is right," she said, shrugging. "Any day job would be better than this. But who is going to take these two home? Spock can't drive."

Bones looked at his watch. "Hikaru's probably up by now," he said. "I can call him."

Jim sat up. "No, I'm all right," he said. "Just a little tired. Certainly driven the five hundred feet between here and our place in worse shape before."

"You're sure?" Bones asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Jim said, waving his hand. "Stopped drinking a while ago, I'm fine. C'mon Spock." He slid over to the driver's seat. "Promise I won't speed."

"Very well," Spock said, climbing into the passenger seat, and true to his word Jim drove away slowly and carefully.

As he watched them drive away Bones realized he was more worried now than he had been at any other point that day.

* * *

Jim really was more tired than inebriated. But it wasn't physical; he was tired of himself, weary of the entire business of being James Tiberius Kirk on a bone-deep level. He hadn't realized until Bones's lecture just how much he'd been playing that game lately, putting on the charm and working all his contacts and looking picture-perfect. He hadn't been like that since, well freshman year at Brown at least, if not long before that, mostly because Bones wouldn't stand for it, even when it was necessary and appropriate.

Jim was tired of being appropriate. Which was probably why he was dancing on the patio on the night before his wedding—really, the morning _of_ his wedding—with someone else's maybe-boyfriend.

"You're better at this than one would think," Jim murmured into Spock's ear.

"I have found that most people of whatever gender who seek a male romantic partner enjoy dancing," Spock replied. "There are more opportunities for connection at the center of the dance floor than on its fringes."

Jim chuckled. "I can't imagine you on the prowl at a club," he said.

"I was much in demand as a dance partner during my bar mitzvah year," Spock said. "A club is really not such a different situation."

"Really?" Jim asked, pulling back. "Are people as simple and uncomplicated as that, to you?"

"Most are," he said shrugging. "I have been able to observe a variety of people in situations both joyous and upsetting and have found that I am rarely surprised by their behavior or their reactions to others."

"Predictable?"

"Once one has identified the general type, very much so."

"Awfully young to have humanity all figured out, aren't you?"

"I would hope to have arrived at some workable theories by now, after the time I have spent observing both for my own writing and for _Spy_ magazine."

"And it never occurred to you that some might be acting to type?"

"People are frequently pretending much less than they like to believe."

Jim winced. "Working for Khan has given you quite a dim view of people, it seems."

"Most, but not all." Spock looked up at Jim then. "Not nearly all."

"What, are you saying you've enjoyed your stay among the idle wealthy of Connecticut?"

"Nothing so general. Rather, that I have enjoyed _our_ conversations immensely."

"And what type do I fall under?"

Spock paused. "The surprise is that you don't seem to fall under any type I have previously catalogued. Superficially you are all charm and flirtation and bravado, but pressed further you reveal either a seriously considered depth of knowledge or a genuine curiosity about unfamiliar subjects. You seek attention for yourself, yet you are truly compassionate about the welfare of others. You continue to elude any sort of categorization. You are, in short, fascinating."

Jim couldn't think of a glib answer to that. "Wow. I'm flattered."

"Have I overstepped?"

"No, I just don't—why don't _you_ keep talking?"

"I—I don't have anything more to say."

Jim felt suddenly annoyed. "I see. So the final verdict of the Great Spock on James Tiberius Kirk is 'uncategorizable'?"

"It would appear so," Spock replied, sounding slightly confused.

"No need for further _observation_?" Jim asked. "Maybe from a bit closer?"

"That was not my intention—"

"Wasn't it? You've been following me around since dinner."

"I haven't—may I please ask, what is that other music that keeps playing?"

"The Lady Gaga song? That's my ring for Gary. We had a fight; he keeps calling. Ignore it. Though come to think of it, he did have every right—"

"No right that I would recognize," Spock said. "He is not yet your husband and even if he were, he is so far beneath you, so incapable of appreciating you properly, that he could have no real claim over your attentions."

"Oh really?"

"You can't marry him, Jim."

"Why don't you stick around for a few hours and see what happens?" Jim moved closer, daring Spock to do something, anything other than this endless talking. "Or have you decided that our categories are incompatible?"

"I merely said you require someone who can appreciate all of your talents."

"Are you applying for the job?" Jim asked.

"I haven't—"

"Yes you have," Jim said.

And then at last, at last Spock surged forward and kissed Jim with all the passion he showed in his fiction but kept carefully hidden in person. It was fantastic, stupendous, and soothed that itch Jim had felt for hours, days, months.

They separated, breathless, and Spock said, "This isn't love, is it?"

"No," Jim said, shaking his head. "It can't be."

"Certainly would be inconvenient at this juncture."

"Yes, but anyway, I know it isn't." Jim kissed him again, though, because he _wanted_ to. "Let's go for a swim."

"A swim? Now?"

"Bones and I always went for a swim after a party. This late we don't even have to bother with suits."

"It does sound refreshing," Spock said. He took his phone out of his pocket and set it on the table next to Jim's.

Jim took his hand. "C'mon," he said, and they ran off down the path to the pool house like a couple of kids.

* * *

"A good night's work, I'd say," Bones said, opening the side door to let Nyota into the Kirk house.

"A good night's blackmailing, you mean," she replied. "Well, at least I have a 401(k) to break into. Who needs to retire?"

Bones took her hand. "We can hack back in to remove the email just as easily as we put it there," he said.

"No," she said, firmly. "If either of us are going to get anywhere, we need to get out of this soul-crushing job. Getting fired might be the best thing to happen to us. Khan's probably already reading it now anyway."

"At four o'clock in the morning?" Bones asked.

"Khan sleeps with his blackberry," Nyota said. "He's rather infamous for sending emails in the middle of the night."

"One of those four-hours-a-night types, eh?" Bones asked. "I think I became one during my residency."

"I'm beginning to understand," she replied. "I think I'm too wired now to sleep."

"Well, we could always go for a swim," Bones said. "Jim and I always went for a swim after a party. A little water, a little exercise, calms you right down."

"Sounds like fun. Spock and I will have to do that sometime."

"Say, Nyota, what _is_ going on between you two?"

She shrugged. "Something more than either of us can really handle right now, I think," she said. "You know, when you meet the right person at the wrong time you just have to dig in and wait it out."

"What if someone else came along in the meantime?" Bones asked.

"I'd scratch his or her eyes out," Nyota said, not missing a beat. "Unless of course they were getting married the next day." They held each other's eyes for a long moment, and Bones thought she might be the only other person in the entire town who actually understood what was going on.

"Well, there's a nice swing out on the porch," he said. "We can at least go out and look at the stars."

"Okay," she said, smiling.

They walked to the open door and could hear music, low, quiet-storm-type R&B by the sound of it.

"Where is that coming from?" Nyota asked, looking around.

"Jim had this whole place wired for sound a couple of years ago," Bones replied. "There's a music server in a closet someplace."

Nyota was standing near the small table. "Huh, it's Spock's phone," she said. "No wonder he didn't answer my text."

Bones turned. "And that would be Jim's next to it," he said.

"Twenty-three missed calls from FPOTUS?"

"Future President of the United States," Bones translated.

"Mitchell?"

"Likely."

"Does he always give people nicknames?"

"Like Bones and Scotty?" he asked, smiling a little. "He put himself into my phone as 'my lord and master' after we were married." He heard a rustle in the branches down the path to the guest house. "Hmm, that might be Gary."

"Should we go?" she asked.

"Nah," Bones said. "Like you said, let's dig in and wait it out."

It was Gary, coming around the corner at a rapid pace, though when he saw Bones and Nyota he pulled up short. "McCoy? What are you doing here?"

"Bringing Ms. Uhura home," he replied. "And what are you doing here?"

"I've been calling Jim, but he didn't answer, so I got worried and came over to make sure he was all right."

"Very gentlemanly of you," Nyota said.

Gary turned to her. "I know what you must think, seeing that fight, but I do care for him. And if you had any control over that boyfriend of yours—"

"Control? We don't have that sort of relationship, thank you very much."

"Apparently not," Gary said, "but you might try not to let your free love thing or whatever it is you're doing interfere with other people." He glanced at Bones. "What are you smirking at?"

"The idea that anyone can control Jim," Bones said.

"Oh, because you couldn't?" Gary said. "I kept quiet before, for his sake, but if you had any idea how much bullshit I had to dismantle because of your antics, you wouldn't show your face anywhere near the state of Connecticut."

Bones raised his eyebrows, but before he could reply, he heard a murmur of voices down the path. "Oh, here they come."

"Here who comes?" Gary asked.

Jim was singing some pop song, no words, just a lot of rhythmic "ohs," and once they came through the trees and into the clearing they could see that Jim and Spock were both in robes, Jim riding Spock piggy-back.

"Uh-oh," Spock said, stopping short. "People."

Jim looked at the three of them on the porch, and then his mouth set, determined. "Keep going, Spock," he said, and then sang, a good bit louder: "See the sunlight, we ain't stoppin', keep on dancing 'til the world ends! If you feel it, let it happen, keep on dancing 'til the world ends!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Gary asked.

"Guess Jim and Spock had that after-party swim," Bones said. "Suits optional?"

"Nothing wrong with the nude body," Jim said, hopping down. "A work of art, ain't it, Nyota?"

"In the right light," she replied.

"Well, anyway," Jim said, "thanks for loaning me Spock. Sorry you had to leave Gaila at the party. I saw you two dancing." He made a little clicking sound with his tongue.

"What is with you people?" Gary asked. "Is this what you call sophistication, naked swims with other people's boyfriends in the early morning hours?"

"It is not, as they say, digging ditches," Spock said.

"I've heard enough from you tonight," Gary said, lunging for him.

"Hey now," Bones said, quickly holding him back. "No need for any of that."

Gary was struggling futilely against Bones's hold. "We would have been just fine if you hadn't brought these two so-called journalists and their downtown pansexual free love ethic or whatever it is."

"I will have you know that Nyota and I are respected professionals," Spock said, sliding the sleeves of the robe up his arms.

"Stop it, both of you," Nyota said. "As if any of this can be solved with fists."

Looking chastened, Gary put his hands down, and Bones let him go, but stayed standing between him and the others.

"Swapping partners, is that what you think our married life will be, Jim?" Gary asked.

"Of course not," Jim said. "But we're not married yet!"

"What makes you think any partners were swapped tonight, Gary?" Bones asked.

"It doesn't take much imagination to see what was going on here."

"No, but just the right kind," Jim said. "All we did was swim! That doesn't mean there's semen floating around in the pool!"

Bones couldn't help but chuckle.

"And you!" Gary said, wheeling on him. "I bet you had more to do with this than anyone else!"

"What's any of this got to do with me?" Bones asked. "You said yourself that you dismantled whatever lingering effect I might have had."

"Oh my god, seriously?" Jim said. "You all can go to bed, alone or with each other, I really don't care. I'm getting my wedding suit and going to Gaila's. I need to think."

"Good," Gary said. "I'm going to do some thinking of my own."

"Good," Jim said, and Gary strode back in the direction of the guest house.

Spock turned to Bones. "I assure you, I could have more than held my own against Mitchell," he said.

"He's stronger than he looks," Bones said, rotating his shoulder in the socket and rubbing it.

"C'mon," Nyota said, taking Spock's hand in hers. "You've had a big day and you need some rest." She handed him his phone.

He blinked and looked at her as though he'd just noticed she was there. "Nyota, I—"

"It's okay," she said, kissing the back of his hand. "We'll talk in the morning." She turned to Bones. "Good night, Leonard. Thank you."

"No, thank you," he replied.

"Good luck, Jim," she said, walking away and pulling Spock with her.

"Need a ride?" Bones asked, holding up his keys.

"Only if you make a solemn vow not to say _one word_."

"My lips are sealed. We can even play your iPod on the way over."

"Thanks, Bones," Jim said.

"Of course," Bones said, following him back into the house. "Anything."

* * *

Gaila brought Jim back to the house the back way. He'd showered and changed, but he was feeling a good deal less than fresh thanks to booze and lack of sleep. Gaila, bless her, was pretty subdued.

"I'll just make up my special tonic," she said, "and you'll be up and at 'em in no time!"

"That you call it tonic is frightening," Jim replied. "And why couldn't you make it at yours?"

"I stowed all the makings for it here, for safekeeping," she said. "I trust Pavel a good deal more than most of the people at that party last night."

"Why do you even still talk to those people?" he asked. "Half of them are freeloaders."

"They're amusing," she said, shrugging. "And familiar. I know exactly where and how _not_ to trust them. They aren't, say, someone I just met on the day before my wedding."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "I could say the same to you. You were certainly all about Nyota last night."

"It isn't _my_ wedding though, is it?"

He didn't answer, just sighed and hung his head, because she was right, dammit.

"Come to any conclusions?" she asked.

"Nope. I think I'm just gonna wing it, see what the temperature of the room is."

"You've always had good instincts, Jimmy," she said. "It's usually when you ignore them that you get into trouble."

"Well, at least someone has some confidence in me," Jim said.

They made their way into the kitchen, where Jim left Gaila to mix up her magical tonic. Pavel was the epicenter of a good deal of activity, which reminded Jim that he wasn't the only one with something riding on this wedding actually happening.

He wandered out to the back where the tent and tables for the reception had been set up. Hikaru was up on a ladder putting up the last of the flowers and oh, of course Bones was helping them. Why he couldn't just stay at his house, Jim didn't know, only that he couldn't quite think straight when Bones was in view.

"Hey Jim," Hikaru said. "Heard there were some fireworks last night. Sorry I missed them."

"Jeez, Bones," Jim said.

"I didn't say anything," Bones replied. "I think he's talking about the fight you two had at Gaila's party."

"Wait," Hikaru said, "there was _more_?"

Jim sighed and rubbed his face. "Just tell him."

"Skinny-dipping with that reporter," Bones said, though he didn't seem to be reveling in Jim's behavior as much as Jim thought he would. "Got caught on the way back to the house by Gary."

"And the reporter's girlfriend, and you," Jim added.

"Ouch," Hikaru said.

"Look who I found," sang Gaila, coming up behind Jim with a tray of dark-looking drinks in her hand. Behind her were Spock and Nyota, looking as worse for wear as Jim felt.

"Nyota!" Bones said. "I bring you good tidings of great joy. You might not have a job to go back to, but I got an email from Khan a few hours ago, and he's destroying the George Kirk story."

"Thank goodness," Jim said. "I don't think I could take one more thing, today."

"Good news for a good morning?" Nyota said.

"It's almost noon," Hikaru said, hopping down from his perch.

"Jesus, seriously?" Jim asked. "Guests are already here?"

"Why do you think I brought you in the back way?" Gaila said, handing him a glass.

"Guess I wasn't thinking," he said, reaching into his pocket for his phone and turning it back on as he guzzled down the tonic in one long swallow.

"Radio silence?" Bones asked.

"Something like that," Jim replied. "Oh and of course I have an email from Gary." He scanned it quickly and then began to read aloud. " _Dear Jim, I have had some time to think about the things we said last night—_ "

"Jim!" Gary said, coming into the tent. "In front of all these people?"

"It's just a letter from a friend. They're my friends, too." Jim continued: " _I hope you can understand that for people in my position, even the appearance of impropriety can potentially end my career, and with it all our hopes for change. A political family leaves no room for any leeway on monogamy or commitment, nor does my own vision of what marriage should be, what our community could be someday with us leading the way. I fear that our ideas of what marriage is are so materially different that there is no place for compromise, and I cannot tell you how deeply that breaks my heart._ " Jim lowered his phone. "It breaks my heart too, Gary. I'm sorry. I tried."

Gary nodded. "I know you did. I'm sorry, too. But you understand my position. I can't risk it. Wanting to change and changing are two different things."

"I know," Jim said, glancing at Bones. "But I think maybe, if you have patience and faith in people, they can exceed your expectations."

Bones smiled at him, just a little, and Jim thought, maybe.

"Anyway, I think—or rather, I shouldn't have let you think that I'd be able to change into that."

"We both hoped," Gary said. "I'll just—I'll pack up and be on my way."

"Sure. You should, you should take the trip. You deserve some time away."

"Thanks. I'm pretty sure I'll need it, actually." He paused. "But one last thing, I hope—"

"Yes, Gary?" Jim asked.

"Well, the fundraiser next month," he said.

Jim could feel the tears in his eyes, but he had to laugh. "Don't worry, Gary. I'll be there, checkbook in hand and charm to spare."

"That isn't what I mean—"

"It is, but that's okay. Focus on the dream, right?" He shook his head. "Just, in the meantime, try to remember that it should include all of us—gay, straight and in between—and not just the ones who want to form happy little nuclear families, okay?"

"Of course," he replied.

"Goodbye, Gary," Jim said, extending his hand.

"Goodbye, Jim," Gary said, shaking it, and then he left.

Jim slumped down into a nearby chair and stared at the centerpiece on the table, while the others stood in stunned silence.

Scotty and Pavel came running into the tent. "Was that Gary I saw, leaving?" Scotty asked.

Jim nodded.

"So he is gone?" Pavel asked.

"He's gone," Jim said. He looked up, seeing Pavel's chef coat, and gasped. "Oh my god, the wedding."

Winona and Chris came in then. "It's all right, son," Chris said. "I'll make a simple announcement."

"Some of his friends have already started to leave," Winona added.

"No," Jim said. "No, I'll do it. We'll, um, we'll just go straight to the reception or something, the rest of us. Pavel and Hikaru deserve to have their hard work appreciated."

"Don't worry about us, Jim," Hikaru said.

"I wanted this to be a showcase for what you can do," Jim said, "and damned if it isn't going to be. Everyone just, go to the garden, I'll be right there."

Most of them left, but Bones, Spock and Nyota hesitated.

"Jim," Spock said. "I did get you into this."

"Not really," Jim said. "And you got me out of something else."

"But—you could marry me," Spock said. "That might solve your problem."

Jim looked up sharply. "You'd really do that?" he asked.

"I assure you," Spock said, "I always take responsibility for my actions."

"Of course you do," Jim said, smiling. "Well, thanks, buddy, I really appreciate that, but I'm gonna have to turn you down."

Spock cocked his head. "Why would you do that?" he asked.

"I don't think it would make Nyota too happy," Jim replied. "Nor you, and I'm even a little unsure about myself. But I owe you a solid, man."

"If that is your decision," Spock said.

"You've got the most beautiful woman on this estate on your arm and you're asking me that?" Jim said. He turned to Nyota. "Don't tell Gaila I said that, or there will be hell to pay."

She smiled a little. "Mum's the word."

"I'm so sorry, Nyota," Jim continued. "I didn't get a chance to say that last night."

"No worries," she said, waving a hand. "We all go a little haywire sometimes, and if we don't, then maybe we should."

"Maybe that's what gets us to where we should be," Jim said. "Anyway, we should head over."

They walked down the little path, Spock and Uhura just ahead of Jim and Bones.

"Fuck, Bones, you're better at words than I am. What the hell am I going to say?"

"Do you trust me?" Bones asked.

Jim turned to him. "Of course," he said. "Always."

"Then just repeat after me."

They got to the end of the aisle, where the guests were seated, and Jim called out for the string quartet to stop playing. "So, given some of these empty seats, I guess some of you have heard that Gary and I decided to call it a day. The blame is all on me, as usual. He's a good man, on his way to being a great man, but I'm not up to the business of being a political spouse after all." He saw more people quietly get up to leave and stopped, unsure what he could really say that would keep the day from being anything other than a disaster.

Bones leaned into his ear. "A few years ago, in defiance of convention and expectations," he said.

Jim repeated the phrase, and could see Bones reaching into his pocket out of the corner of his eye.

"I denied you the pleasure of attending a wedding in this home," Bones continued.

He repeated that as well, wondering where exactly Bones was heading with this reminder of their own wedding, which had been private due to his father's illness. Then he felt Bones's breath against his ear.

"But I hope to go through with it now, as originally planned."

"But I hope to go—" Jim stopped and stared at Bones, who nodded, smiling. "But I hope to go through with it now, even bigger and better than originally planned."

A hubbub shot through the crowd, and Gary's few remaining friends quickly left, but that was okay. That was just fine.

"Do you mean it, Bones?" he asked.

"I do if you do," he replied.

"I promise, Bones, I promise to be better," Jim said.

"Just be your own self," Bones replied. "We're both older and wiser this time, aren't we?"

"But the license!"

"We'll go into town tomorrow and deal with that then," Bones said. "Have a nice little civil ceremony if we have to. This is the one that counts, anyway."

"Your guests?"

"Everyone I care about is here," he said. "Hikaru, will you stand up with me?"

"Of course!" Hikaru replied.

"What about the rings?" Jim asked.

"I still have mine," Bones said, taking it out of his pocket.

Jim couldn't remember where his was, but they'd find it later he was sure. "And hey, why do you get Hikaru? Who'll stand up with me?"

Behind them, a voice said, "Your brother is always your best man, idiot."

They turned and there was Sam, standing with a ring in his hand. "Got your old ring and everything," he said.

Jim gave him a fierce hug, thinking that he'd never been so happy to see anyone in his _life_. "You've been here the whole time?"

"You really think I'd miss my own brother's wedding?" Sam asked. "I was just hoping you'd come to your senses." He glanced at his watch. "Cut it kinda close, don't you think?"

"You know me," Jim said. "Always late to the party."

Sam nodded to Hikaru, and the two of them walked down the aisle, taking their places on either side.

Jim turned to Bones, smiling. "Well," he said, "let's get married."

"Yeah, let's do that," Bones replied.

* * *

(ten years later)

Jim and Bones had been to, and thrown, plenty of fundraising galas in their day, and Jim was still fond of putting on a tux and eating passed appetizers and hobnobbing with ladies in sparkly dresses. But there was a time and a place for that, and these days picnics were a little bit more their speed. And since the Kirk compound was going mostly unused for a week between sessions, Jim was happy to volunteer it for the HRC and the candidate they were backing for US Senate. That said candidate had nearly become Jim's second husband, well, gay circles in Connecticut weren't that large, so it wasn't like it was the first time they'd seen each other since that fateful day. But it would be the first time they'd see each other _en famille_ , and in the very place where they were to be married, so Jim was expecting a little awkwardness.

It didn't help that Bones, Hikaru and Spock had a whole bizarre side bet going on what acknowledgement, if any, Gary would make regarding their history. Jim didn't even ask who'd bet what; he didn't want to encourage them. But his son, who was a little operator even at the age of seven (the year before he'd masterminded some sort of elaborate snack-swapping scheme at his school that nearly amounted to a black market in sophistication while managing to stay entirely within the rules; the principal at his Montessori school said that David's future was likely to be as a major player on Wall Street, a felon, or someone who catches felons, and Bones remarked that he didn't see much difference between the first two) gave Jim the run down.

"Uncle Spock says his smile will be slightly too tight or there might be a wince, Uncle Hikaru says his eyes will be a little sad, and Pop says there won't be any noticeable difference whatsoever," David reported.

"Why would Mr. Mitchell want to hide being sad?" his twin sister Joanna asked, unsurprisingly as she tended to take after Bones in such matters.

"Hiding your true feelings can give you a strategic advantage," David replied. "You should really only show them to people you know you can trust, like me and Dad and Pop."

Jim worked hard not to roll his eyes. "Sometimes it isn't appropriate to show everyone how you're feeling," Jim said. "It can make people feel uncomfortable. Mr. Mitchell wants people to vote for him and help his campaign, so he wants everyone to be comfortable."

David threw up his hands dramatically and thumped down onto the bed. "That's what I just said!"

"All right you two," Bones said, popping his head in the doorway. "Downstairs, and mind your manners. We're hosting this party."

"Pop, why is the pool covered?" Joanna asked.

"So the adults don't make fools of themselves," Bones said.

Jim smiled at her. "We'll swim after the party, like always."

As the kids ran ahead of them down the stairs, Bones asked, "Nervous?"

"Nope," Jim said. "You?"

"No reason to be that I'm aware of," he replied.

"I dunno," Jim said. "Gary might lose that bet for you."

Bones growled low in his throat, which just made Jim snicker. "Spock started it," he said.

"Of course he did," Jim said.

Scotty and Gaila had already arrived, as had Spock and Nyota, and only Nyota could make reclining on a chaise while eight months pregnant look so elegant.

"How're you feeling, darlin'?" Bones asked, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Like an ocean liner," she replied, "but Pavel made this lovely virgin punch so I think I'll just about make it as long as Spock keeps my cup full, even if I do spend most of the afternoon going back and forth to the restroom. It might be all the mingling I'm up for."

"I will endeavor to do all that I can to ensure your comfort," Spock said.

"Well you look serene," Jim said. "I expect all the ladies will want to have babies after seeing you do it."

"Don't look at me," Gaila warned her husband, and promptly reached for a Bloody Mary from a nearby tray.

"No worries," Scotty replied. "Between all this lot I'd say there will be plenty of children to go around."

Pavel's firm had catered the event—Jim never used anyone else—but while he'd created the menu and worked on the do-ahead items the day before, his sous-chef was in charge of service today so Pavel could spend time with his friends. A big pile of old blankets were available to be spread out on the lawn that sloped down from the pool, and the caterers stood ready to make up boxed lunches to accommodate nearly any nutritional need—vegan, low carb, gluten-free, you name it. As the guests arrived Jim and Bones played dutiful hosts, guiding everyone toward the lawn where some of the HRC staffers had started an enormous game of tag to keep those kids who weren't flying around in the bounce house entertained while the musicians set up.

Joanna was sticking close for reasons Jim couldn't fathom but wasn't going to fight; he knew well that these days of wanting to hang around Dad were numbered, even if they weren't going to end all that soon. Joanna needed to come out of her shell a little bit, anyway, so it was probably good for her to be in on all this mingling, to smile politely and shake hands with the adults and all the things that old Grampa Ti had taught Sam and Jim (and Leo, on occasion) about being young gentlemen.

The man of the afternoon was a good thirty-five minutes late and all apologies as he came out to greet them. "Sorry, sorry," Gary said. "We had a little toddler freakout."

Said toddler was in his arms and did look post-freakout, burying his face shyly in his father's neck. Gary, predictably, had not a single hair out of place.

"So I don't even get to tease you about being Bill Clinton?" Jim said, smiling.

"How's that?" Gary asked.

"You know, being late?"

"Oh right! No," Gary said, laughing, though sounded just a little worn. "Jeremiah here just decided that instead of napping in the car, he really needed to have a tantrum."

Jim shrugged. "Better there than here, right?"

"True, true. You remember Tom?"

Jim shook hands with the Gary's husband, who had a baby in a snugli and a large bag in one arm. "I do, good to see you, Tom," he said. "And this is Joanna."

Joanna took his hand, gravely. "Pleased to meet you," she said.

"Likewise," Tom said, smiling. "You're a lucky girl to live in such a nice house."

"Oh we don't live here," she said. "We live in Pop's house. This was Grandma's house, but she and Grampa Chris moved to Tay-ohs."

"Taos," Jim corrected.

"So Dad and Uncle Sam put artists in the rooms and sometimes they paint the walls and take pictures of the trees but so far no stories about monsters or dragons."

"Stories without monsters or dragons are a great disappointment to Joanna," Jim explained.

"I'd heard about this artist's colony," Gary said. "It's going well?"

"Yeah," Jim replied. "We started out with Spock and Nyota and some of their friends but now we have applications and appointments and everything. It's like throwing a really long dinner party."

"Sounds like it fits right into your skill set," Gary said.

"Washington must be treating you well," Jim said.

"Brought me Tom," Gary said, putting his free arm around his husband's waist. "And we're doing good things there. For everyone, I hope."

"You are," Jim said. "And the senate!"

"If all goes according to plan," Gary replied. "Thanks for opening up your house for us. It means a lot."

"Whatever we can do, Gary," Jim said. "Truly."

"Thanks. Well, we probably should—"

"Go, mingle! And get some food."

"I'll make sure he eats," Tom said. "Nice to meet you, Joanna."

No sooner had they walked away than Bones, who'd probably been hovering someplace out of sight, came wandering up, David alongside him. But before he could say anything, David poked his sister and said, "Well?"

"Uncle Hikaru won, definitely. He had sad eyes." She looked up at Jim. "So did you, Dad."

"Maybe I did, a little," Jim admitted.

"Gee," David said. "Are you sorry you married Pop?"

"Not for one red second," Jim said, taking David's hand. "If anything, I'm sorry I divorced your Pop and made promises to Gary that I couldn't keep. But I'm where I belong now, and so is he, so it all turned out okay."

"Sometimes people make mistakes," Bones said. "And if they're truly sorry, then we forgive them."

"So what will you owe Hikaru?" Jim asked.

"Driving him to the flower market five mornings this month," he said, shrugging.

"How about I get up and make you coffee?" Jim suggested. "Or would that be too wife-ly?"

Bones smiled. "Be whatever you like," he said. "You're my Jim."


End file.
